


Letters

by Naughty_Yorick



Series: The Alphabet Game [12]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Discovery, Love Confessions, Love Letters, M/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-30
Updated: 2020-10-30
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:16:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27285544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Naughty_Yorick/pseuds/Naughty_Yorick
Summary: Jaskier confessed his love on paper a hundred times over, folded and sealed away, never to be read.One winter, Jaskier writes Geralt a letter - then realises he has no way of sending it to him. That doesn't stop him writing another. And another. None of them are ever delivered, and soon they become a safe way to get his hidden feelings out. Safe for awhile.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: The Alphabet Game [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1983026
Comments: 32
Kudos: 403





	Letters

**Author's Note:**

> I challenged myself to write a fic for every letter of the alphabet. I took each letter, plugged it into a random word generator and wrote a fic based on whichever word it gave me. This letter is "L", and the word is "Letters" (Also, I did two for L... woops). See more of my Alphabet Challenge on my tumblr, [here!](https://a-kind-of-merry-war.tumblr.com/post/632799468062916608/alphabet-game-master-post)

Jaskier started writing letters to Geralt on their fifth winter apart. He wrote the first one after Valdo told him about a werewolf that had been terrorising a village he’d passed through, vaguely aware that a beast rumoured to eat children was probably the sort of thing a Witcher ought to know about.

Truthfully, the letter had been a brief paragraph about the monster and then a litany of complaints about the Academy - starting with the draughty accommodation and ending with Valdo’s smug, stupid face.

When he’d finished and signed it - briefly debating between signing off with “yours” or “from” - he realised that he didn’t actually have any way of sending a letter to Geralt. All he knew was that Geralt spent his winters in some Witcher’s keep up in the Northern mountains. Even if he _had_ an address, no letter would even make it that far.

He tucked the sealed letter into a draw and forgot about it.

Two weeks later, he wrote another. This one touched briefly on a rumour that there was a vampire in one of the wine cellars (nonsense, he was sure), then detailed the far more thrilling story of a winter competition he’d won. This too went in the drawer, quickly buried beneath junk.

By the time winter was over, and he’d found Geralt in a tavern a few miles outside of Rinde, there were three letters bundled in the bottom of his pack. Jaskier had vague intentions to give them to him, but the longer he waited the stranger it seemed, and so in the pack they remained. When they parted ways, as they so often did, the little pile of letters grew, one by one, slowly but surely.

Any pretence that the letters were supposed to be useful or informative had been dismissed. They were rambling, musing things - some a few lines long, some several pages. Once he’d realised that Geralt was never going to see them anyway, he became freer with his feelings.

He’d confessed his love on paper a hundred times over, folded and sealed away, never to be read.

After another five years, the stack was becoming rather unwieldy. Tied together with a thick yellow ribbon, they took up far too much space in his pack, but he couldn’t bring himself to throw even one away. 

Geralt always chastised him for refusing to pack light. And when his bag split along the seam as he rooted through it looking for a lute strap, Jaskier was well-prepared for the _I told you_ so that was to come. It would have to wait, however: there was coin to be made tonight.

He returned from the show, face flushed, to find Geralt sat on the floor of their shared room, surrounded by piles of paper. Piles of _letters_. For once, he was speechless. Geralt looked up at him, a letter hanging from his hand. It was a recent one: the paper white and fresh-looking. It crinkled in his grip.

“They were addressed to me,” he said, by way of an explanation. “All of them.”

Jaskier didn’t say anything as Geralt stood, sending paper flying across the floor. He passed the letter he was holding to Jaskier, who took it in slightly trembling fingers. He read the final few lines - all passion and heart and heat - and the sign off: “yours, forever.” He swallowed, heavily.

“Forever?” Said Geralt, quietly.

Jaskier handed the letter back, and Geralt took it carefully - almost reverently.

He took a step forward. “Forever.”


End file.
